


Count On Me

by Monkeygirl77



Series: Grumpy (Sometimes) But Kind Raphael [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: :D, Altered Mental States, Angels are not perfect, Awaiting Trial, Badass raphael, Big Brother Raphael (Supernatural), Big Brother Thaddeus, Bitch please, Bless Michael's soul, Castiel Bashing (Supernatural), Castiel's in prison, Chuck is a major douche, Class Differences, Codependent Winchesters (Supernatural), Dean Winchester Bashing, Dean Winchester thinks Raphael's scared of him, Get Real, Good Guy Thaddeus, HE IS, Have i mentioned he's my favorite yet?, He's a complex character who we never got to explore, He's a healer, He's compassionate, He's my favorite, He's not, He's third in line to the throne, Healer Raphael (Supernatural), Heaven is not perfect, Heaven's hierarchy, His minds a bit messed up at first, His time to shine, I don't like them, I really love that guy, If it isn't already, Long time coming, Male Raphael, My God is a good parent, Naomi brainwashes people, Naomi's a bitch though, One doesn't lead the host, One listens to the host, Parental Raphael, Person of Color in charge, Raphael drinks scotch, Raphael hasn't, Raphael is not a douche canoe, Raphael taught her how, Raphael's in charge, Sam Winchester Bashing, Thaddeus is not a bad guy, The angel family is a mess, They can suck it, a Hot Mess, and die, at Castiel, bitch, bitch going to get it, but angry, but he lost the big picture, but to use it for good, but we fix that, but we love them that way, class discrimination, don't make me laugh - Freeform, factions and classes, he's a freaking archangel, he's a victim, if you didn't know already, one drink a night kind of family, prove me wrong, she can suck it, so he isn't my God, that should be a tag, they're infallible, which she did not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:13:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27341779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkeygirl77/pseuds/Monkeygirl77
Summary: It's the Third Born's turn on the Throne. Michael led the host with fear and an iron fist, he lost the big picture, consumed by his grief, he couldn't get through all five stages. Raphael's grieving, but he's pushing through, he hasn't lost sight of the bigger picture. Heaven does not need a leader, a ruler, a king, it needs an older brother, someone to listen before taking action, as the Healer he's trained to listen first and act later, his heart has not been tarnished, it's been made stronger, he's been made stronger. It's his turn in command, and he's not going to squander it like everyone else has.
Relationships: Raphael & Angels
Series: Grumpy (Sometimes) But Kind Raphael [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128185
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

**AN: An AU arc where we explore Raph's time as leader of Heaven**

"The nerve of some people." He looks up at the sound of his voice, leaning back against his hands, trying to peer over the thick walls of orange flames. "Thinking they know what's best for the universe, please, they don't know what's best for the mud on the bottom of my boot." There's a strange metallic sound, metal hitting metal, and then he's shrinking back as a barrage of water overcomes him.

Squinting, he wipes the water from his eyes, glaring over his fingers at the other in the room with him. "Thank you, Oren."

"Just doing my job, sir."

He narrows his eyes, huffing lightly as he pushes himself up from his precarious position on the floor, and brushes his hands down his soaked shirt. "Your job is to soak me?"

"I think of it as collateral damage." His Captain shrugs cheekily. "You were in the way."

"I was ' _in the way'_." He crosses his arms loosely over his soaked front. "I was stuck in the middle."

"Lucky shot, then."

"I'll show you a lucky shot." The Virtue laughs as he jumps out of his Archangel's reach. "Get back here!"

"Be happy it was me!" Oren ducks under his hand and pops up behind him. "Zaves was gonna come but I talked him out of it."

"I'd thank you, if I wasn't soaking wet." He finally catches the wily Virtue, Oren laughs, bracing against his side as he's caught in a headlock. The Virtue laughs softly. "This is a far cry from the archangel about to fry a couple no good heretics."

"I don't need to _'fry'_ you." He reaches back. "I just have to dig in a little, right, here." Oren yelps, edging to the side, struggling with the arm curled around his neck, as fingers assault his side. "This is what you get. Soaking my like that. Who do you think you are?"

"Okay, okay, I give! I took advantage of the situation!"

He chuckles, pushing the Virtue away gently, Oren snorts and rubs at his side. "I came to bring you home. You're family is waiting for you."

"My family?" Raphael turns to look at him, the storm slowing to a slow drizzle around them, his eyes saddened by the reminder of what had happened to his family. Oren smiles at him sadly, stepping forward to meet at his side, all jokes and laughter aside. "Raph, I know you don't think you can do it, but you can. Everyone loves you, save for a few imbecilic idiots, you are the most loved angel in all of Heaven." He sets a hand over his shoulder lightly. "I know miss your brothers. But you're not alone, older brother, we're all here for you."

…

There was nothing like stepping back into ones home. Listening to the bustling chatter and footsteps, he smiled to himself as he tied the smock around his waist, smiling to his healers as he passes them. This is his home, these are his people, he's right where he belongs.

"Imma smite 'em!"

"Oh, no you won't." He bends as the fledgling runs up to him, swooping him up on his arm as he walks passed him, smiling down at the little boy on his arm, he pokes him in the pudgy little belly lightly. "You can barely hold a flame, let alone full on smite someone, you'll stay where I can see you."

"But they hurt you!"

"I'm stronger then I look." The Healer sets the fledgling on his feet and kneels to him. "You go hide and I'll come to find you."

Mihr giggles and nods excitedly, darting off to find a hiding spot, and the Healer watches him disappear with amusement, before turning to his Captain. "Have we any new patients, Oren?"

…

"Titus?" The Power looks up at the sound of his name, smiling at the approaching Archangel, and sets his assignments down on their table. He crosses his arms as the Archangel returns his smile. "Hello, Healer."

"How are you all doing, Tus?" He gestures to his shoulder. "How has that shoulder been treating you?"

"It's been alright." He rolls his shoulder. "It only bothers me when the weather changes." He smiles to the Archangel again. "What can I do for you?"

"Would you mind if I borrow Andrew and Daniel for the afternoon?"

The captain of the Guards raises an eyebrow at the request. "Of course not, be mindful though, they've been in a right foul mood all morning." He scratches at his cheek lightly. "Beats me what their problem is, I've been trying to figure it out all morning," he shrugs. "But, you're welcome to use them as you need them."

"Thank you, Tus, where might I find them?"

"Well, seeing as their mood, I sent them to their room to do some thinking." He hums softly. "I don't care _who_ you are. You don't mouth off to me and expect to get away with it."

…

"You came." He sets his drink down, curling his fingers into a light fist, as he takes in the appearance of the one who's betrayed them all. "I appreciate the courage that takes."

Castiel eyes him, as though he suspects he could take him if they were to break into a fight, the seraph has grown rather full of himself. Not that he would need them, but he has Andrew and Daniel as his back up. The Powers await just outside. He's well and truly protected. If he was going to be leading Heaven in his brothers wake, there was things that needed to be set out, certain rules that needed establishing.

Castiel was one who broke all those rules.

"What do you want?"

"Tomorrow," he sighs, his gaze wandering to the two guards posted silently before him, something has rifled their feathers quite drastically. "I've called a full assembly of the Holy Host." He turns his attention back to the traitor. "You'll kneel before me, and, well, pledge allegiance to the flag." His head tilts slightly. "Alright?"

"And, what flag is that?"

It's not a new feeling for him, though it is rare, but irritation is creeping up on him. "Me, Castiel." He turns his gaze away lest he snap at him, he doesn't have time to be playing such games, he's got a flock to lead, a few flocks to lead, fledglings to care for, patients to tend to. He's a busy man. "Allegiance to me?"

Castiel has the gall to sit forward, almost as if to challenge his birth right. "Are you joking?"

He returns his attention to the uppity seraph with a heat to it, it's a heat that would send other angels backing down, the Healer's temper is not one to be tested. "Do I _look_ like I'm joking?"

"You never look like you're joking."

One of them snorts. He's not sure who, but one of them snorted, Andrew looks amused, but so does Daniel. Perhaps they both snorted. No matter, now's not the time, there's things he has to do for the betterment of the Host, at the moment.

"You have rebelled." He looks away from the guards and back to the seraph. "Against God, Heaven, and me." Leaning back in his chair, he reaches for his drink, and takes another sip. "And, now you will atone." Now, he gestures to the two guards, and they take their order as silently as they usually do. Titus has his guards trained well, they are an extension of him, and he is rather well mannered. Castiel rises to his feet when they make their appearance, reaching for his blade, but they wrestle him around, restraining him where he stands. "Castiel, I cannot begin to tell you the pleasure I take in this, it has been some time coming to you," he stands from his chair, downing the rest of his drink, he crosses his arms and straightens to his full height. He nearly towers heads over the three of them. "I charge you with treason against the Host, against the Thrones, and against Heaven."

"You can't do this!"

"I hereby sentence you to the Prison, until your case can be evaluated under a council of your peers, awaiting your trial in restraint."

"The angels won't stand for this!"

Raphael leans forward, towering over him. "It's the angels who _want_ this." He nods to Andrew and Daniel, and they wrestle him into manacles, and returns his gaze back to the seraph. "Let me tell you how one runs the Host. One does not run the Host, one does not lead the Host, one _listens_ to the Host. They weigh the wishes and desires of the Host and act accordingly." He eyes the seraph disdainfully and leans away. "One does not lead by fear and intimidation, Castiel, one leads by understanding and great care."

"You care about no one but yourself!"

"You don't know me at all, Castiel." He nods to the two guards and they drag the seraph back, holding firm despite his struggles. "Not at all." He turns to spare the two guards a smile, it takes the seraph by surprise, he'd never seen the stern Healer smile before. "Andrew, Daniel, once you deliver him you will return with me to the Infirmary. We shall explore this foul mood and come to the finish of it." He smirks at them. "And, yes, that is an order."


	2. Chapter 2

The first order of business was to ensure his Legions were working at their finest.

He started first in his own home, where he knew them personally, they were his own. He raised most of them himself, he knew them like he knew the back of his hand, they were his in every meaning of the word. His quiry was right before him, reading through the pages of a file, his poor Captain has been taking care of everything for him in his absence, running himself ragged in the process. Now that he had a moment to concentrate, a moment to be with himself, to be in his element, he could see what was right before his eyes. He looked as though he hadn't slept for the better part of four days, running on adrenaline and pure willpower, bless his weary heart, he'd kept the place going while he had to care for other things.

"Oren?"

The Virtue looks up at the call of his name, smiling to him in greeting as he approaches, he returns the smile in kind. He snags the top of the folder and pulls it from his hands. "I'll take that." Oren reaches for the file. "Wha—Bu—I'm working with that."

The archangel shakes his head. "You _were_ working with it." He looks about the large Infirmary floor, he could never find them in a blink of an eye, but their guardians could, without a single hesitation. "Where is Inca?"

Oren turns, eyes winding just a moment, and gestures for the other side of the room. He's with Orion, he usually is, they're two peas in a pod. "He's over there."

"Good, get his attention."

"Sir," he raises an eyebrow at the title when he turns to gaze at his Virtue. "Is he in trouble?"

"Heaven's no," he smacks him in the arm with the file in his hand. "Get his attention."

Oren nods, raising his hand, having seen the gesture from across the room, he's very observant, given the obstacles he has to overcome. The young healer touches a hand to his friends arm, stepping away from her side, crossing the threshold of the Infirmary floor, to come to stand at their side.

He looks first to his guardian, with wide, inquisitive eyes, Oren simply shrugs and nods to the archangel and so he turns his wide inquisitive eyes. _'Am I in trouble?'_

"Just as I told your guardian, you are most certainly not in trouble, no," he shakes his head and tucks the file against his side. "The two of you are going to change into something comfortable, something _clean_ , and find a bed. Preferably down here, where I may keep an eye on you both."

Oren tilts his head, not quite understanding the meaning behind the order, Inca looked between them both until his eyes inevitably fell on his guardian. The Virtue spared him a glance, curling his fingers around the back of his neck comfortingly, before looking back up at his Archangel. "I—I don't understand. Did I do something wrong?"

"Why is it you are adamant you should be in trouble, have you done anything that would warrant such action?" Raphael shakes his head lightly, gesturing to him as a whole. "You're _exhausted_ Oren, the bags under your eyes are gaining bags of their own, you're as pale as a ghost, in Father's name, you're _swaying_ where you stand." He crosses his arms loosely. "So, as I said, you two are going to march yourselves over, change into some new clothing, and find a bed to climb into." He uncrosses his arms for a moment, reaching out to caress his Captain's cheek. "Ori, you're working yourself to the bone. You've done more than enough. Let me take care of things now."

"You have to take care of—"

"My family. You, my little Ori, are my family."

Oren nods lightly, rubbing at his forehead lightly, closing his eyes for a moment. "I could…I could _really_ go for some sleep."

"Then, by all means," he gestures to the floor in general. "Find yourselves a bed."

The Virtue Captain nods, smiling at the thought of it, and looks down to his small charge. Inca looks up at him with wide eyes, curious, wanting to be in on the secret between them. Oren smiles at him, lifting one of his hands, pressing a kiss to his palm. "Let's go get some sleep, little guy."

He watches them head off with a smile, they really did such good for each other, and he shook his head as he spied around for his next target. He was always at his work station, working away, breaking down and breaking out, always in the middle of something. He had to be encouraged to take a break more often than not and seeing as he had been away for nearly a week, it was to be expected that he would have to set things back to rights once more.

Honestly, it was like he was coming home to a bunch of fledglings.

Poor thing, she was fast asleep over her work bench, completely overspent. Her workbench was a mess, vials and jars scattered all around, ingredients spilled out everywhere. Her arms were curled around her head, spread out some around her, head laying against the wooden table top, barely seated upon the bench.

Her guardian was still going though, stirring his mixture in his cauldron, curled over top of it, hunched around it.

"Zed," he curls his fingers around his shoulders, squeezing and kneading his fingers in, the apothecary groans softly, melting under his fingers. "How long have you been working?"

"It's just been a couple of days."

"You look about ready to keel over."

The Virtue Apothecary shakes his head, as if clearing the fog that's overcome his mind, and tries to shrug his hands from his shoulders. He doesn't succeed, and he manages to find a particularly stubborn knot and works to dissolve it, Zed groans and leans into his touch.

"Your arms must be tired." The Virtue nods in agreement to his statement. "They ache."

Raphael hums behind him, working his fingers into the base of his neck, and Zed leans back into him. "When was the last time you both had a good rest?"

"I don't know…" He breaks midsentence, a yawn breaking through him, and his stirring pauses. "A couple of days."

"Let me tell you what you're going to do, Z," he reaches around him and curls his fingers around the younger angel's, pulling the stirring spoon out of his grasp, he turns him around gently, taking hold of his face in both hands, a gentle cradle. "You are going to take your young miss Ara, change the both of you into something clean and comfortable, and then you are going to find you both a nice comfortable bed to climb into, and sleep." He turns them in the direction of the little apprentice. "It looks as though she's beat you there."

Zed smiles at the sight of his sleeping charge, she was more then anything to him, she was his world and his baby girl, he adored her. "Oh, Ara," he steps forward, stumbling at first, but manages to catch himself and steady out. "Little kitten, you fell asleep." Araton is small, tiny compared to her master and guardian, so he lifts her lightly, turns her towards him, and lifts her up under the arms.

Little Araton curls around him, her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and falls straight back to sleep against his shoulder.

Raphael steps up beside him, touching a hand to his arm, and he smiles to him when he turns to look at him. "Go get yourselves changed and find a bed. Get some sleep, my Virtue." He nods at him, smiling into his kitten's shoulder, and turns, heading in the direction of the Loft. He'll be back, he's having them stay near, where he can keep an eye on them all, make sure they get the rest he so wants them to get.

The ones he goes in search for next aren't hard to find, they're far more ahead then the others are, he smiles at the sight they make, though part of him wonders if they had just collapsed in such a position or if they had consciously laid down in such a position. Either way, he won't fight it, they all need as much rest as they can get.

Akriel's fallen asleep on one of the empty beds, sprawled out on his back, peaceful as peaceful ever was. Gzels fallen asleep on top of him, using him as her mattress, sprawled out over top of him. Orion's curled around his left arm, sound asleep, curled against his side.

He smiles as the young healer curled against him mumbles in her sleep, kneeling down next to her, stroking a finger over her cheek, her nose scrunches and she nuzzles closer to the mental specialists arm. "Rest easy, little healer." Standing back to his feet once again, back at full height, he leans over for the end of the bed, where the blanket has been pushed down, and lifts it up over their sleeping forms. "Rest easy." He smiles at the little healer, then up at the young girl a top his Virtue's chest, strokes a hand down the back of her head, she mumbles softly herself, so much like her sister, and nuzzles her cheek against his chest under her and his arm creeps up, curling around her lower back. Then he stands, brushing his Virtues hair back from his eyes, Akriel smiles lightly at the soft touch and settles down into his pillow. "Rest easy, little ones."

Turning from them, he looks for his last two, they always circle around each other, they'd been close as young fledglings and grew closer as they grew older. Constantine was never far from Ephraim's side, and vise versa, Ephraim was never far from Constantine's. He had their working areas next to each other, for just that purpose, while all of his brothers could, Constantine was always best in calming Ephraim when things got too overwhelming for him.

Raphael finds him sitting on the edge of a bed, his face buried in his hands, his fingers clutching at his head. His shoulders are stiff, the muscles tense, he can see that he's wound as tight as a spring. He, himself, can feel the swirling of emotions circling around them. Fear, anger, upset, anxiety, and just a tinge of hope. It took a certain amount of his strength to block it out himself, for him to do so, he would have to focus on it completely.

Kneeling softly, he reaches out for a gentle hand, curling his fingers around the young Virtue's temple and pushes just a bit of his grace into his head. To drown out the intense feeling of the combating emotions, to calm his mind, to sooth the ache. "Eph, are you alright?"

He shakes his head, mumbling into his palms. "H—Hurts."

"Is it too much?"

Ephraim nods, peering at him from over his fingertips, eyes full of strain and pain. He smiles at him gently, pushing just a bit more of his grace into him, and he sighs lightly at the comforting feeling, the ease of the pain he feels. "It hurts, RaRa."

He smiles again, a soft smile, a comforting one. "Let me help you?"

The empath nods, he'd do anything for the relief, to ease away the pain of those around him.

His archangel smiles at him, pulling his hands back gently, he caresses his face in his hands. "Okay, I'm going to help you, let's lay on back now." He guides him back, settling him against the pillow, turning him around to lay in the bed. "Close your eyes, now." Ephraim sighs softly, looking up at him with wide hopeful eyes, willing to do anything to ease the ache. "Close your eyes, Eph."

The Virtue nods, closing his eyes lightly, feeling the bed dip as his older brother and archangel sits on the edge. He presses against his arm as he leans over him, a hand curling over his forehead, and he leans into the warm gentle touch. "It's going to make you very sleepy, alright, and I want you to let it take you over, okay, accept it with open arms. Can you do that for me?" He smiles down at him when the empath nods lightly. Curling his fingers over the sides of his face, and leans forward, pressing his lips to his forehead in a tender kiss and he lets his grace wash over the tense Virtue. The tension and the shaking of nerves calms down, and he sighs again, this time a sigh of relief, and he sinks into the pillow. His mind numbed from everything around him, feeling nothing but his own emotions and the immense sleepiness washing over his conscience.

Ephraim sighs in relief, feeling himself sink into the gentle grasp of slumber, and just as he had said he would, he lets himself be pulled into the warm comforting embrace of sleep.

Rapheal smiles down at him, when his breathing evens out, and he succumbs to the pull of slumber. Leaning down, he takes hold of the blankets, and tugs them up over the comforted sleeping empath. He'll be out for a good couple of days, and he'll watch over him carefully, though his grace should be enough at the moment.

A hand touches to his shoulder and he looks over at it, his gaze travelling up the arm to the face of the one he was going to be searching for next, this makes things so much easier.

"Hello, Costa."

"Hi, Raph." He nods to his brother in the bed. "He looks peaceful, a far cry from how he's been in the last couple of days, how did things go with capturing Castiel?"

The archangel smiles up at him. "They went according to how they were supposed to. He currently resides in the Prison pending trial. He shall face the consequences of his actions." He looks him over critically. "How long have you been up and about?"

Constantine shrugs, as though it was no big matter, despite the fact being quite the opposite. "Maybe, four, four and a half days."

"You've been awake, without a moment of rest, for nearly five days?"

"I think?" He shrugs again. "I think the factions are at it again. We've had a few of them in here with minor injuries in the last couple of days."

"They'll be of no problem." Raphael waves that notion away with a flick of his fingers. "I'll deal with them accordingly." He turns to face him more fully. "You mean to _tell_ me that you've been awake for nearly a week without pause?"

"Well, there really hasn't been time," Constantine turns to look at his younger brother with a smile. "You've been busy with, well, you know, taking care of things, so we've been taking charge of things here and there just hasn't been much time for resting."

"Well", he nods firmly. "There's more than enough time now."

"I'm not even tired."

"I think I'll decide that," he stands from his place on Ephraim's bed, and places a hand on his shoulder, humming when he felt the slight swaying motion. He raises a finger. "Follow my finger." Constantine nods, focusing on his finger, and struggles to follow it as it moves. He blinks once, then twice, and shakes his head. "Follow my finger, Constantine."

"Which one?"

"What do you mean ' _which one'?"_ He raises an eyebrow. "I'm only holding up one."

"I see two."

He smiles in amusement, chuckling softly, and reaches out to pat his cheek affectionately. "That's because you, my little Costa, are _exhausted_."

"Now that you mention it," the Virtue rubs at his right eye lightly. "I could go for a few moments of shut eye."

"Could you now?" The Healer rubs his thumb over his cheek. "Then, why don't you get a _'few moments'_ of rest?" His young angel looks up at him with tired eyes. "I'll even tuck you in."

"Tuck me in?" Constantine looks up at him with a particular look. "I'm not a fledgling anymore."

"Fine, I won't, if you don't want me to."

The young Virtue looked to his feet for a moment, and then back up to him, eyes shining with meek like desire. "No, I do, I do want you to tuck me in."

"I would be glad to," he guides him around, tucking him into his side. "Let's go find you a bed."

…

He taps his fingers against the oak top of his desk, he'd take care of matters in his office, this was his domain, his room of ruling. The Throne room was more so his older brother's taste, too formal for him, he wanted to deal with his unruly younger siblings in the comforting place of one's own home, not in the stuffy, stiff, stone hard Throne Room.

Bartholomew and Malachi glare at each other, so hatefully, standing at odds in the middle of his office.

Raphael feels a headache coming on.

"You are going to end this unnecessary fighting, apologize to each other, and go about your business."

At least there is one thing they can agree on, as they both turn to sneer at him.

"Apologize!" Bartholomew snarls vehemently. "I'll apologize when he admits he _stole_ from me!" He pokes the other in the chest harshly. "And then I'll _kill_ him!"

"You will do no such thing."

" _Stole_ from you!" Malachi shoves him back a step, harshly, and snarls back at him. "I didn't _steal_ anything from you! _You_ stole it from me!"

"You two are acting like a pair of fledglings who's taken another's toy from each other."

"I didn't steal anything from you!"

"I didn't steal anything from _you_!"

"That is _quite_ enough." They both jump when the Healer smacks a hand down harshly against his desk, having forgotten he was there as they immersed themselves back into their argument, he spares them both a heated glance. "That is quite enough, indeed." He stands from his chair slowly, rubbing down his tunic lightly as he does, and slowly crosses out from behind his desk. They turn more directly to face him as he approaches them both slowly, taking each step carefully, his brother led them all with a tightened fist and a rough demeaner.

He would not lead them like that.

Michael had forgotten who he was, the bigger picture, and had lost himself to tragedy before he was damned.

He would not make that same mistake.

He would not forget to be the _'older brother'_ before he was a _'commander'_.

Michael had lost view of that.

The Healer comes to stand between them both, hands snapping out to catch hold of their collars, and yanks them forward until they stand just beside him. Their eyes wide and surprised, perhaps not used to this type of treatment, his older brother, he loved him dearly, he'd responded with a different type of manner.

If they wanted to behave like fledglings then they'd be treated as such.

"Let me make one thing _perfectly_ clear." Raphael looks between them, eyes harsh, burning with anger. "I will _not_ stand for any infighting of _any_ kind." He shakes them lightly, but firmly, and each curl fingers around his wrists. "You _are_ going to _apologize_ to each other, end this unnecessary _fighting,_ and go about your _business_." His eyes stare into theirs, glowing with anger, illuminated harshly. "Or so help me, I will turn you both over my desk, completely bared, and thrash you with my staff until you can't even _think_ about sitting without flinching." He looks between them once more, at their wide eyes, this was not the way his brother took care of things. "Do I make myself clear?"

Bartholomew opens his mouth but says nothing and Malachi swallows harshly. "Mi—Michael never did that."

Raphael gives him a hard look. "I'm _not_ Michael."


	3. Chapter 3

His next order of business was seeing to the Prison, it’s prisoners, and their Wardens. He sighs deeply as he places another fil on the piles forming on his desk, the ones he’d read through deserved to be there, but he was sure, in his brother’s state of mind, he’d sentence people harshly, who were innocent of the crimes they were accused of committing, his brother had seen foes where there were friends, evil where there was good, he was blinded by his anger and mourning.

It took a careful eye, reading every word of every file, to make the determination if they were falsely imprisoned, or, if they were, their sentence was unjust.

There were a number who needed to be incarcerated, he was sure, Metatron was one of them, he was becoming increasingly concerning, he was starting to come to a conclusion that perhaps the scribe had been feeding into Michael’s state of mind, as he had started to attempt and whisper in his ear of what he should do and how he should handle things.

He ignored his whisperings, he didn’t need to be told how to lead the Host, he understood that perfectly well. But he kept a close eye on him, he’s need to control the one controlling the Host was increasingly alarming.

He needs to investigate Naomi, he _knows_ there’s foul play in her laboratory, there’s no evidence to prove his suspicions, but he was still inclined to check in on her, to see for himself, whether his suspicions be true or not.

There was a lot of work to be done, and he’d prepared for it, he’d sat himself down and dove into it, it had to be done sooner rather then later.

One catches his eye, before a few, and he hums, flipping back to the previous page, rereading the document and every fine detail. The crimes this one was accused of were well known, it was because of him that humanity was banished from the Garden, it was a grievous crime, he’d tried to plead his case, to explain, to tell them what had happened. He’d wanted to hear his side of things, he’d even given him permission to tell, but Michael had overruled him, silencing the younger angel before he could start, sentencing him without thought, life imprisonment, he would die behind the bars of a cell, and then he’d been dragged off, screaming for them, screaming for help, screaming and begging for someone to just listen, it wasn’t what they thought, it wasn’t like that, and his screams had faded as he slowly disappeared from veiw.

He’d had objections to the punishment before hearing his story, but Michael wouldn’t have it, bestowing the title of traitor on the younger angel’s shoulders, blaming him for Father leaving and Lucifer’s betrayal, and locked him up and threw away the key. He never spoke of him again.

Raphael scrutinizes every word, rereading and rereading, absorbing every word.

Humming again, he closes the file, setting it to the side, the first of what would soon be a small pile, and moves on to the next.

For sentry of the other gate, charged with the same crime the other had been, locked away and forgotten, out of sight out of mind, traitors to their own kind. And, just as it had with the other he’d set aside, a few sentences caught his attention, alarmingly so, and he sets that file aside as well, on top of the other, and reaches for the next.

Most of them deserve their imprisonment, and he agrees with his brother’s sentencing for those ones and tosses their file into the larger pile. A few others catch his attention though, five others, that he sets aside with the first two, and he pushes the large pile away and returns to the smaller pile, reaching for the file on top to reread it, just to be sure he wasn’t simply separating them for feeling bad for them, out of sympathy.

Once he concludes his read through once more, he pushes the other files back into the box next to his desk, sets the seven he’d left out in the center of his desk, and stands from his chair, crosses out from behind his desk, and leaves his office.

“Oren.” The oldest Virtue looks up at the sound of his Archangel’s voice, he’d been in his office for quite some time, and he’s slightly surprised to see him, he’d thought, honestly, that he’d fallen asleep going through the prisoners file. “Gather the others. I want to release some prisoners and I don’t know they state they’ll be in.”

Oren stares at him, and he smiles, pushing him slightly. “Some time today would be nice, Ori.”

The Virtue’s Captain nods, setting the charts in his hands down, and turns away to collect his brothers, gathering them one by one, until they return to his side, and he nods, jerking his head to the side. “Let’s go.”

Raphael detours, to gather the Powers for protection, he doesn’t think he’ll need him, he’s not the easiest to take down, but it’s best for one to have back up, just in case.

Word spreads through the masses of the Healer intending to make his way to the Prison, and when he arrives, the Wardens stand waiting for him.

Thaddeus bows his head. “Archangel Raphael,” his gaze travels over the two legions behind him, eyeing him carefully, but he can’t determine what they’re eyeing him for exactly. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

Raphael crosses his arms behind him lightly, giving an aura of complete ease, unaffected by the false kindness, from the Warden that had once been honestly so kind to everyone, he had suspicions, from the rumors of what took place in these walls, but until he looked into Naomi’s doings, he hadn’t anything confirmed for him.

“I wish to see a few prisoners. There were a few things in their files that cause my great concern and wish to see if they be true or not.”

Thaddeus nods lightly, raising his head from it’s bowed position, and turns to lead him inside. “Of course, sir, of course.” The guards close the doors behind them. “Who is it you wish to see?”

“Gadreel, Abner, Forfax, Andas, Alphum, and Anitor.”

The Warden freezes midstep, and he takes note of his face paling considerably, humming at the sight of it. The Archangel comes to stand at his side, looking down at the nervous Warden inquisitively, his tone even. “You _do_ know where they are, don’t you?”

He nods lightly. “O—Of course, sir, of course I do.” Thaddeus swallows thickly. “Who do you wish to see first?”

Raphael hums softly. “Take me to see Gadreel.”

The Warden shutters softly, with the knowledge that there was no way for him to skirt around it, not with the Archangel set on his target. Raphael watches the angel before him nod slowly, his eyes portraying a good amount of fear, and follows when he begins walking again. He looks around, taking in the dank and shadowy surroundings, at eyes that peer up at him from within the cells, some of them whimper at their passing their cells, he looks at them all as they pass, he’d read the files thoroughly page for page, front and back, and the only ones he sought for were those seven, it doesn’t stop him from worrying about the others though, wondering if he’d missed one by accident, after he got the seven settled in, he’d reread through the files once more, just to ensure he didn’t overlook someone by accident.

He was shocked when he was lead down a hall, away from the cells, but remained calm and straight faced, and down further to where it was rumored that— _No._

Thaddeus opens a door on their right, and leads him inside, in the center of the room is a large well, two guards stood on either side, their backs facing them. As they drew nearer, he could see a thick wooden cap, covering the top of the well opening, and as they drew closer and closer, he could hear weak pounding from underneath.

They wouldn’t. Would they?

“What is this?” The two jump around, startled at the sound of his voice, looking up at the Archangel in horror, before turning to their Warden with the same expression. “Hello?” He waves a hand at them for their attention. “Lift the lid.” The guards turn back to their Warden and he clears his throat. “ _Lift_ the lid.”

They nod fervently, turning back to the well, and carefully lift the wooden top, setting it to lean against the edge. A pale pruny fist shoots out of the water, as though to strike the lid again, and he rushes forward, looking down into the water, two sets of blue eyes stare up at him, his eyes widen as he reaches into the water, snapping at one of the guards to do the same, and hefts the one in his grasp up out of the water. They gag, choking on water, coughing up the water that had began to fill his lungs.

Raphael pulls him out gently, weights crash against the floor when he pulls him over the edge of the well, they’d weighted him down so he could get his head above the water, and gently lays him down. The guard isn’t as gentle, as they drop the one in their hands harshly, stepping back as they regurgitate water, shivering wildly.

“Gadreel?” He pats the closest ones cheek gently in an attempt to get his attention, blue eyes flit up to his green ones, before he heaves another mouthful of water over the floor. “It’s alright now, little one.” The Healer turns to his Captain. “Oren, take him, strip him from his wet clothing, force him to keep vomiting until he’s regurgitated the entirety of the water, once he has, warm him up, wool blankets.”

His oldest Virtue nods firmly, stepping forward, lifting the drowned sentry into his arms carefully, not minding the water that soaks his front as the younger angel continues heaving and coughing, he’s been covered in various substances in his lifetime as a healer, he’s unphased at this point, and he turns, making his way down the way they had come.

The Healer rushes to the other one’s side, turning him gently onto his side, he was still coughing up water, if he turned him completely, he might choke, and he didn’t want that. “Forfax?”

A pale pruned hand reaches up for him, and he catches it, squeezing it tightly, pressing his lips to the back of the cool young hand. “It’s going to be alright, little one, it’s going to be alright.” Raphael turns to his second oldest Virtue. “Akriel, take him, the same as for Gadreel, get him tended to immediately.” His mental specialist nods, stepping forward to collect the other drowned prisoner, lifting him gently, and like his older brother, he doesn’t mind the water being coughed up against his front.

Standing, he turns a sharp glare on the Warden, Thaddeus gulps softly and backs away a step, bumping into Abraxos. “I want to see Abner. _Now_.” He nods quickly, mutely, and turns, leading them out the door. He hears Nisroc whisper something to Abraxos, and the younger Power whisper back, but he’s not paying enough attention to really make out what was said.

They’re led down a hall of moaning prisoners, and his heart aches at the sound, never has he seen the Prison in such a state, once more, his suspicions come to the forefront of his mind, but he can’t act on them, not until he’s had them confirmed, everyone changes in the midst of trying times, in war, there was no positive assurance that Thaddeus’s change in disposition had been forced by the hand of another.

 _But_ , he did intend to find out.

The stop in front of a cell, blood dots the stone floor, and he steps closer to the bars, it’s dark, nearly impossible to make out anything in the back of the cell, but movement catches his eye, slow, as though to try and be as unnoticeable as possible, but he catches it

He turns to the Warden sharply. “Open it.”

Thaddeus nods mutely, reaching for the keys on his belt, and they jingle as he sticks the one in the keyhole, that’s when he’s assured there is someone within the cell, someone whimpers, a pitiful whimper, a whimper of terror.

Raphael doesn’t bother thanking him, as he reaches for the torch on the column between this cell and the next, and steps inside. As he draws closer to the back of the small cell, he sees them, wide eyes looking up at him, from the two back corners to the small cell, he turns to the right first, stepping closer, squatting down, and holds the torch out to catch sight of them.

Those blue eyes that he meets squint at the light from the torch and he sighs softly, holding a hand out cautiously, stopping midway, not touching the prisoner before him, waiting for them to come to him instead. “Oh, little Abner, I’m _so_ sorry.” The young prisoner whimpers again, but utters not a single word, and looks between him and his hand, before leaning forward slightly, and presses his cheek into his outstretched hand. He rubs his thumb over his cheek soothingly. “I’m going to take you from this place and to a place you can be well cared for, alright?”

The beaten sentry, he can hardly see, but he can feel the warmth of fresh blood on his palm and fingers, licks his lips slightly. “G—Gaddy?”

“He’s already there, little one, waiting for you.” He rubs his cheek again. “Will you let me free you and get you taken care of?” Abner leans heavier into his hand and nods mutely. “Thank you, little one, would it be alright for Ephraim to take you from this place?” The young sentry nods once more, and he nods in turn, turning to look at the ones behind him. “Ephraim, take him, be as gentle as you can.”  
  


His empath nods silently, stepping into the cell, taking his place as he moves to the one in the other corner, and he holds the torch out once more to see them. “Hello, Anush.” The prisoner before him whimpers softly and he reaches his hand out again, smiling when a warm slick cheek presses to his palm. “I’m getting you out of here, alright, I’m taking you with me. The younger angel whines softly, leaning forward, and he leans in closer, to allow him an easier access to wrap his arms around his neck. Turning his head slightly, the Archangel presses a soothing kiss to his cheek, curling his free arm around him in turn. “When I come back, you’re going to have a good cry, alright?” He scratches lightly at the back of his head. “I can see those tears you’re holding onto. You need a good cry and I’ll ensure you get it.” Anush nods faintly against his shoulder and he turns slightly. “Constantine, take him, tend to him with great care.”

His Virtue nods, stepping into the cell, and he turns back, whispering soothingly in the prisoners ear. Anush whines, but nods, letting go of him, and he clears out of the way as Constantine squats in front of the prisoner and whispers to him, before lifting him carefully from the floor.

Raphael watches them disappear down the hall when he steps out of the cell and immediately turns his attention to the Warden. “The other three, Thaddeus. Andas, Alphum, and Anitor. Take me to them.”

…

They still have one more place to go, he’d promised Thaddeus that he’d be back, and if his suspicions were true, he’d keep true on his word and return immediately. He calls his Virtues back to him once he’s sure it’s been long enough to get the prisoners he’d freed tucked in comfortably, standing on the path outside of Naomi’s laboratory, waiting patiently for them, and nods when they arrive, stepping forward.

Guards come rushing at them when he opens the door, and the glare he sends their way stops them in their tracks. “You wouldn’t _dare.”_ Wisely, they step back, it amuses him, when one goes so far as to drop their sword and throw their hands back, most, if not all, knows what follows _that_ tone, and he nods firmly. “Wise choice.”

Raphael follows the sounds of screaming, down a hall, pausing for a moment to look at the dirty faces he sees, looking up at him from cells, cages would be a more apt description, he stares at them for a long moment before he speaks. “It’s going to be alright, little ones, I’ll take you from here.” He turns to his Virtues, all but Oren, to free them, tear the doors off their hinges, he doesn’t care, just get them out of this place, and they nod, stepping around him, and he continues on his way down to the door where the screams emanate from.

The Archangel wastes no time, throwing the door open, marching swiftly across to linoleum flooring, looking down at her latest victim as he tears the drill from her hand, and tugs her around as he lets it drop to the floor, glaring down at her with all the wrath of one of Heaven’s most terrifying weapons. “How _dare_ you abuse _my_ teachings.” He shoves her back, Oren rushing forward for the one strapped to the table, and for that he’s grateful, as he forces her back another step. “How _dare_ you do _this_ to our _family_.”

Naomi sputter as she stares up at him in horror as she pushes up against a wall. “R—Raph! It’s not..It’s n—not what it looks like!”

“I’m not _blind_ , Naomi, nor _stupid_.” Raphael stands over her, he towers over the smaller angel. “I know _exactly_ what it is _you’ve_ been _doing_ to them.” He curls his hand around her neck, he was a compassionate Archangel, he was kind, he was understanding and patient, he always believed in granting people second chances. But, _this_ , this was going too far, even for his kind forgiving nature to cover. “I’m remanding you to the Prison. I’m going to read through your files, and it’ll be on what I find in them, that will determine your fate.” He leans over, until they’re face to face. “And, if you think, that _I_ , of _all_ people, would be above _executing_ you, then you’d best think again.” He turns, shoving her in the general direction of the Power, he knows they’ve heard him, Oren’s already gone, having taken the one she had been working on when they’d arrived. “Take her.”

Puriel nods, stepping forward, catching her by the arm, and leads her out silently.

The Healer looks to his mental specialist. “Akriel, she was brainwashing Asaliah, I want you go look him over, sift through his mind, mend what was so wrongfully broken.” Akriel nods, taking his leave silently, following in the path Puriel and Oren had taken, and he waves the others forward, as he exits that horrid room, and makes his way down the hall for her office.

It takes him little time to find her files, they’re resting on top of her desk, and he sifts through them, she has them marked with the names of her victims, looking for three names in particular, and when he finds one, he opens the file, skimming through the pages until he comes to find what he was looking for, his suspicions confirmed, and he looks up at the Captain of the Powers. “Nisroc, I want you to get Thaddeus and bring him to my Infirmary, I don’t care _what_ you have to do, but _ensure_ he stays there.”

The oldest Power takes a step forward, concern coming over his expression, which is to be expected, he’d raised the Warden. “Sir…Raph…”

“She brainwashed him, Nisroc, I _knew_ there was something wrong, something _wasn’t_ right, it wasn’t like him to be so _cruel_ , it was _never_ in his personality.” He holds the file out to the Power, offering for him to take a look himself, if he didn’t believe him, and he did, just to be sure. “I couldn’t do anything until my suspicions were confirmed, now that they are, I can act. I want him, knock him out, tie him down, but I _want_ him.”

Nisroc nods firmly, passing the file back, and makes his leave to collect his charge.

Raphael turns back to the files, setting Thaddeus’s file aside, and looks for two more names, humming when he finds the one, and skims through the pages in that one, searching for what he’d found in the first. “Titus, I want Ion, he’s _your_ guard. I want him and I want you to retrieve him.” The quite Power stares at him for a moment as they implications of that statement sink in, and he nods firmly when they do, following after his Captain. The Archangel continues sifting through the files, setting Ion’s on top of Thaddeus’s, and finds the last one he was looking for specifically, and flips through the pages until he finds it. “Abraxos, I want Theo, bring him to me.”

The second oldest Power nods mutely and turns away, disappearing down the hall, to retrieve who he was sent for.

…

It takes him four hours to mend their minds, and reverse the damage she had caused to them, four long painstaking hours, Thaddeus had been the worst out of the three of them, she’d attempted to rewrite him completely, which most certainly explained his complete shift in personality and disposition, why he gone from kind to cruel.

He joins Anush in his bed, sitting on the edge, holding him close as he sobs himself hoarse in his chest, clutching at the front of his tunic like that of a terrified distraught fledgling, wrapping his arms around him firmly, until he calmed, nearly crying himself to sleep, and smiles down at him as he tucks the blankets up under his chin, and gently urges him to sleep until he’s completely out, sound asleep, wheezing softly through a stuffy nose, and then he stands, checking in on the other prisoners he’d taken as they slept, checks in on his other patients, and retreats to his office to reread through the files he’d taken from Michael’s office, just to be sure, though his concern lessened, now that he knew for sure that their Warden would return to his normal self and surely return his Prison to how it had been before Naomi had injected her cancerous self into a perfectly functioning system.

Raphael keeps the two Wardens and the guard for two weeks, to ensure the work he’d done on their minds stays intact, and they don’t start to revert back to their previous state, watching Thaddeus fret of Gadreel and Abner was more then enough to convince him that he was fine, and sent him and Theo back. He had a Prison to take control over once more, prisoners to see to, and things to set back to rights once more.

Ion stayed for a bit longer to work through some residual anger, before he’d cleared him, and sent him back for Theo.

…

He gives them a month before he checks in on them, to ensure they’d haven’t reverted back to their molded selves, and that they were taking care of the remaining prisoners properly.

It’s relieving to the Archangel as he walks down the hall to be greeted by smiles, cleaned prisoners, who undoubtedly faced a good scrubbing from their two Wardens, one by one. Clean cells, clean blankets and pillows, some were still eating their lunch, with larger portions, which he noted quickly. A few of the prisoners sat outside their cells, their conversations pausing as he walked passed them, smiling at his soft greetings as he did, the doors unlocked, and he deduced that they must be the claustrophobic ones.

Raphael comes across Theo and Ion first, collecting empty lunch trays from the prisoners who’d finished their meal, and nodding to those who asked if they could have more, promising to return with another helping after they were done collecting the empty trays, and they smile up at him when they spot him making his way down the hall.

“Theo, Ion, it’s good to see you, and in proper temperament this time.”

Theo smiles, ducking into Ion’s side, and the guard winds an arm around his shoulders, these two are close, they always have been. “It’s good to be back to myself again.” Ion nods in agreement. “It’s like something was different, something was changed, and I _knew_ something had been changed, but just couldn’t put my finger on it, and every time I thought about coming to see you to find out what it was, the thought simply flew away.”

“But, you’re alright,” he looks them over critically. “Nothing feels different?”

Theo smiles up at him cheekily. “My new tunic feels different.”

“That is _not_ what I meant, and you _know_ it.”

Someone in one of the cells behind the Co-Warden and his guard escort grumbles about their food, and they laugh, Theo turning to point a finger at them in warning, which makes them giggle softly and back up.

It makes him smile. “Where might I find Thaddeus?”

Ion tilts his head slightly. “Thaddy?” He jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s in the chamber. Someone snapped at him this morning and he decided they needed to be punished.”

The Healer thanks them softly, stepping passed them to allow them to continue on their way, and makes his way further down the hall, dread and fear settling in the pit of his stomach when screams emanate from behind the chamber’s metal door. Slowly, fearing the worst, fearing what he might be walking in on, he reaches for the door handle, turning it slowly, and pushes the door open.

Thaddeus is facing him, looking down at his red-faced prisoner, teasing them as they scream and squeal with laughter, their Warden’s fingers spidering up and down their inner thigh, they scream with laughter when he reaches up and digs his fingers into the inner crease of their upper leg, apologizing profusely between fits of squeals and laughter for snapping at him earlier that morning, and he shakes his head, returning his own response to their apologies, he hasn’t forgiven them just yet, and returns to spidering his fingers up and down their inner thigh once more.

Shaking his head, Raphael smiles, and turns to make his leave, closing the door on the vengeful Warden and squealing prisoner softly, he doesn’t want to disturb them. Turning slightly, something catches his eye, and he steps over, there’s a board between the chamber’s door and the door to the Warden’s office, and he snorts, Thaddy is such a tease, and a jerk, he has the prisoners names written down on the board, the times their sessions are for the week, and which one of their two Warden’s their session is with.

He’s known for leaving the cell doors unlocked, he didn’t usually mind if they wandered around, as long as they didn’t try and escape, and with him back to how he should be, he highly doubts that any would try, and he _knows_ they’ll see the board and they’ll be likely to giggle when they find out who their session is with, and that’s what his _sole_ intention is, is to make them giggle.

Trusting that things were taken care of here, things were back to normal, he turns to make his leave.

…

Bartholomew and Malachi sniffle softly, curled around him, their faces buried in his shoulders, and he hums, holding them close while they wanted him to, he’d only let go when they let go, and until they did, he’d hold them.

Raphael hums softly, cradling the back of their heads gently, scratching at their scalps lightly, he’d made good on his threat, and they would sit without wincing for some time to come.

“I—I’m sorry, Raph.”

“M—Me too.”

“It’s alright, ‘Mew.” He kisses the side of his head and turns to the other to do the same. “It’s alright, Mala.” They stay like that for a while, he doesn’t mind, he’s used to standing for long periods of time. “Just don’t give me a reason to do it again, okay, can you do that?” They both nod. “Good, good, I’m not saying you have to be best friends, but do try to get along, alright?” They both nod again. “If you think something’s wrong or you’ve been wronged, come to me, and we’ll sort it out together, don’t just turn to fighting one another, that solves nothing, can you do that for me?”

“Y—Yea, I can do that.”

“M—Me too, I can do that too.”

He holds them for a good amount of time, until they pull away, rubbing at their faces to clear away the evidence of their tears that could give indication as to what had happened here, and what they’d been put through.

“There,” the Healer pats their cheeks. “All cleaned up, you go on, remember what I said, if you think somethings happened, come to me, alright?”

Bartholomew nods slightly. “Okay, Raph.”

Malachi nods and rubs at his nose softly. “Okay, Raph, I will.”

“Good, thank you.” He pats their cheeks again. “You two go on, get back to your business.”

Both faction leaders nod, giving him one last hug, and make their leave.

He nods, he himself as business to attend to, and follows in their wake.

He needs to see to Metatron and put an end to his attempts in trying to usurp the Throne.


End file.
